


Each Step of the Way

by startaroux



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Developing Relationship, M/M, Neighbors, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Sanji, Pining, chapter titles taken from dolly parton songs, luffy's just a bit feral in this but we love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startaroux/pseuds/startaroux
Summary: Sanji had saved up just enough money for a downpayment and two months’ rent on this studio apartment. Somehow, out of sheer luck, he’d also gotten a job as a line cook at a busy restaurant in the city’s business district. Now he just wonders what type of people his neighbors will be.orSanji moves into a new apartment and instantly develops a huge, stupid crush on the boy next door.
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Sanji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 66





	Each Step of the Way

**Author's Note:**

> My dear friend [Kite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiite/pseuds/kiite) shoved me headfirst into the acesan hole, and this is how I thank them.
> 
> Please enjoy 💜

Sanji looked up the stairs in front of him and adjusted his grip on the box in his arms. This was the last one. He’d carried everything else he owned up three flights already, so what was one more? Just one step at a time. 

That last box was _heavy,_ though, and the summer heat beating down on him wasn’t helping at all. This box was full with most of the kitchenware he owned, stuff he absolutely _could not_ do without. If Sanji had to choose between a bed and a well-stocked kitchen, he would choose his frying pans every time. 

Still, they weren’t light. Sanji silently cursed himself for not splitting it into a few smaller boxes while he was packing but continued on anyway, slowly but surely. Wasn’t like he really had the time to plan ahead for that, anyway. 

Clearing the final landing and shouldering his way into apartment 302, Sanji set the box on his new kitchen counter and breathed a sigh of relief at the accomplishment. His own place. He was _finally_ here. A sense of pride and excitement bloomed from his chest, overwhelming him with the thought and when his eyes started to burn with the threat of tears, he decided to busy himself with making the place look presentable to keep them at bay. 

With every box Sanji unpacked, his new home began to take shape more and more. There wasn’t a lot of cabinet space, so the few pots and pans he had were hung on the wall. He’d bought a cheap bed at one of those home furnishing stores that took him two hours to build, but looked fairly nice and comfortable once he was done with it. 

Sanji had no picture frames to put up, so he’d found some strange and beautiful paintings and prints at the local thrift store that had been dirt cheap but really made the place look homey once they were on his walls. He didn’t have a couch, a television, or a dining table, but he _did_ have plenty of books and a nice bean bag chair he’d gotten when he was a teenager. That would be enough for now.

It was good. It was _his._

Sanji had saved up just enough money for a downpayment and two months’ rent on this studio apartment. Somehow, out of sheer luck, he’d also gotten a job as a line cook at a busy restaurant in the city’s business district, despite having minimal experience at best. It didn’t pay much, but there wasn't anything he couldn’t make work with a little budgeting. If anything, it would keep a roof over his head and food on his table. 

Well-- it would keep food on his kitchen counter. He could probably find a small table and a couple of chairs for cheap at a flea market somewhere soon. Actually… he would only need one chair. That was a problem for a different day though, and a different Sanji who wasn’t dog-tired as well. 

He was out like a light as soon as he hit the mattress.

The next morning, Sanji felt fresh. Waking up just before dawn was a habit of his that he wouldn’t be breaking any time soon, especially not if he hoped to make it as a chef someday. He walked barefoot and shirtless over to his tiny kitchen and felt a giddy thrill at being able to cook for _himself_ in a kitchen of his _own._

As his coffee pot sputtered to life, Sanji slid an omelet onto his plate and admired his handiwork. It was fluffy and savory, and the fact that he had to stand at the counter to eat it didn’t dampen his mood a single bit. 

Early birds chirped outside the window. Taking a sip of coffee, Sanji vaguely wondered if this was how his life was going to be from here on out -- calm and quiet. 

_Maybe I wouldn't mind that at all,_ Sanji thought, and pointedly did not think about how lonely it might get. It was better than what he had before, at least.

A muffled banging sound brought Sanji back to the present, thankfully keeping him from daydreaming for too long and ending up late for his first shift. It was still fairly early, not exactly the right time of day for anyone to be making such a racket, but he didn't really care. Really, it was almost comforting to know that there were other people within earshot.

Sanji slipped his shoes on and wondered what type of people his new neighbors might be before grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out. He wouldn't have to wonder for long.

As Sanji opened the door, he came face-to-face with a young man (maybe a few years younger than himself) leaned up in a crouch against the door directly across the hall from his, gnawing on a fried chicken leg. They stared at each other for a moment.

"You're no’ Thatch," the kid said, words slightly distorted thanks to the food still in his mouth.

Sanji glanced down the hallway toward the stairwell before settling his gaze back on the squatter in front of him.

"No, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint," he replied, to which the boy just gave a shrug. Sanji had never lived in an apartment complex before, but he was fairly certain this type of encounter wasn't exactly considered _normal._ "You okay, kid? Do you need some help or something?"

"'M not a kid, I'm 19." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood, giving Sanji an appraising once-over before sticking his hand out. "Luffy. Who’re you?"

"Uh, Sanji…" he answered cautiously, taking the offered hand and then immediately regretting doing so as it was still covered in chicken grease. He wiped it off on his jeans. "So, like I was saying, did you need any help or anything? I think I have some cash in my--"

" _Ohh!_ Nah, I'm just waiting on my brother to open up ‘cause I lost my key again. Guess he's still asleep or something." Luffy turned toward the apartment he -- _apparently_ \-- lived in and banged _hard_ on it a few times before glancing back at Sanji. "Guess you're new here, right? Met Ace yet?"

Sanji shook his head. He hadn't met any of his neighbors yet; hadn't really had time for it seeing as he'd lived here less than a day. Hopefully, they were all as friendly (though maybe not as loud and… _greasy_ ) as Luffy seemed.

"I'm sure I will eventually," Sanji said with a polite smile. He twirled his keys around on his finger and turned back toward the otherwise empty hallway. "Anyway… I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you though, Luffy."

"Yeah, same here," Luffy called after him, voice nearly drowned out by the sound of him beating down his brother's door again. "See you later!"

Sanji smiled to himself as he sat at his bus stop watching the sun make its ascent above the tops of the buildings. He'd met one person already and, though it was a far cry from what anyone would call a friendship, it was nice to at least meet a friendly face for once.

Yeah. This was doable. _He could do this._

-*-*-*-

Sanji's new job fucking sucked. He may not have ever worked in an actual restaurant before, but he was certain it shouldn’t be this _shitty._

He had only been at the “Railway Restaurante” for a few days, but he was already wanting to quit in the most dramatic way he could possibly come up with. The only thing holding him back was that tiny issue of money.

He _needed_ this job.

The head chef was some nutjob named Wanze who insisted Sanji do everything in the most asinine, impractical way possible while he sat on his own ass and did nothing. Sanji had damn near stabbed the guy twice already _today_ just for the annoying inflection he put on his words.

Toward the end of his shift that Thursday afternoon, just as Sanji thought his day couldn't get any more frustrating, he heard one of the waiters burst through the kitchen door and call out, "we got a drunk at table 12!"

The cook at the station next to Sanji's -- fuck if he even remembered the guy's name -- barked out a laugh, _slapped_ him on the back, and yelled, "how 'bout we let the new guy handle this one!" before shoving him toward the dining room. 

So as Sanji trudged through the door, he mumbled every expletive life had ever taught him and cursed whichever god of bad fortune landed him here. What the hell was he supposed to do with a drunk man? Throw him out on the street? While an action like that went against everything Sanji stood for, he couldn't afford to lose this job, either. He'd have to figure something out. 

As Sanji approached table 12, he saw the man in question. He couldn't quite see his face yet, but that was because the guy was hunched over the table with his head buried in his arms, fast asleep.

Well, it could've been worse. At least he wasn't bothering the other customers. Sanji raised a foot and gently nudged the man in his side.

"Hey," he said and nudged him a few more times. "Listen, man, you can't sleep here."

No response. Poor guy must be _hammered._

Lifting his foot higher, Sanji started jabbing at the drunk man's ribs instead. He knew kicks to the ribs _hurt._ If that didn't wake the guy up, he was either comatose or dead right in the middle of Sanji's workplace; something that was looking increasingly likely by the second. 

Momentarily concerned, Sanji stopped kicking for a second and reached over to the man's neck to feel for a pulse. He was warm -- _very warm_ at that _._ Dead people were usually cold, right? Sanji pressed down more and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found a strong, steady pulse. Not dead then, just sound asleep. Fucker.

There wasn't much else Sanji could do short of slapping him awake, and he _certainly_ wasn't doing that. Frustrated, Sanji sat down at the spot across the table in a huff and waited for him to wake up. He couldn't smell alcohol on him anywhere at least, so maybe he wasn't actually drunk after all, just dead tired. Ain't no rest for cogs in the capitalist machine.

He briefly toyed with the idea of just _rolling_ the sleeper out the front door but, one, that would cause an unnecessary scene and, two, he wanted to be sure the guy wasn't in need of a place to sleep first.

It always went back to Sanji's personal values. You see someone in need of help, then you help them however you can. So Sanji waited. Fortunately, he didn't have to sit there for too long.

"Mn?" The man lifted his head and blinked groggily up at Sanji before rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Have a good nap, sir?" Sanji asked as sarcastically as he could, throwing in an eye roll on the last word. He knew he was being bratty, but the guy took _forever_ to wake up.

"I fell asleep? Shit," the man chuckled, rubbing at his face to wake himself up before giving Sanji a lopsided smile. "Sorry 'bout that."

Seeing his face now, Sanji realized he was a lot younger than he expected him to be. Maybe around Sanji's age? A year or two older? 

He had wavy black hair that framed his face nicely with a healthy smattering of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks. He definitely had that boy-next-door type of look to him, and Sanji had to fight down the heat that was creeping across his own face.

Turns out the "drunk" he was supposed to be kicking out had turned out to be, unfortunately, very attractive. _Shit._

“I, uh-- It’s-- fine,” Sanji sputtered, embarrassed that he couldn’t even string together a single sentence. He coughed, trying to pull himself together for the sake of his own dignity. “Just-- you can’t sleep here.”

The man ran a hand through his hair and down to rub the back of his neck and Sanji thought the sudden heart palpitations he was having were quite strange.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that… Had a long night on the job,” he said, looking downright bashful, but cute as hell. “You know how it is, right?”

It was only then that Sanji remembered he was at work and not _actually_ having dinner with some handsome stranger he just met.

“Listen… I’m supposed to be kicking you out of here because my boss and coworkers thought you were passed out drunk,” Sanji said, as apologetically as he could for the situation. “I can wrap your meal up for you though if you’d like.”

“No, no. That’s okay. I know you’re just doing your job. I’m finished with it anyway,” the guy said placatingly, gesturing to his empty plate. “I can head on out now.”

As he went about piling his dishes together for easy cleanup -- something very few customers ever did -- and standing to leave, the stranger glanced back up at Sanji like he’d just remembered something important.

“I’m so sorry, where the hell are my manners? I never even introduced myself,” he said, sticking a hand out. “My name’s Ace. You’ll probably see me around here again ‘cause I love the food at this place.”

Shocked by the unnecessary politeness, and even _more_ shocked that his new acquaintance actually _liked_ the food in this shithole, Sanji stared at the hand for a moment before finally reaching out and giving it a shake. His hand was warm and firm, and it felt _really good_ to hold onto. Sanji was almost disappointed to have to let go of it. 

Ace… It was a nice name. Felt kind of familiar, though. Either way, it was only polite to introduce himself as well, right?

“I’m Sanji. Like I said, I work here, so… I’d better get back to it.”

“Of course!” Ace said before grabbing his -- _was that a fucking cowboy hat??_ \-- hat off the back of the chair. He then flipped it up onto his head in what had to be the smoothest damn way it could possibly be done and bumped Sanji’s shoulder on the way out. “Pleasure meeting you, _Sanji_.”

Oh. _Oh,_ Sanji’s brain might have short-circuited at hearing his name come out of Ace’s mouth like _that_ so unexpectedly. Did-- did he do that on purpose? This was not a situation Sanji was particularly used to, so he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. 

By the time he was able to pull himself out of his little internal freak-out, Ace was already long gone and Sanji was standing in the middle of the dining room looking like a lunatic. Moving forward with great effort, Sanji made his way back to the kitchen. It was just about time for a smoke, anyway.

“Takin’ my 15,” Sanji yelled to whoever was listening. He started to undo the knot at his back to take his apron off when a hand slapped down onto his shoulder. 

“Nope! You just took it,” his boss’s annoying voice said in his ear. “Keep that apron on.”

“Are you serious?” Sanji whipped around and glared at Wanze. “Your guys told me to go wake a drunk guy up, so that’s what I did. It wasn’t a damn break--”

“It was if I say it was, kid, now get back to work.” Wanze interrupted before Sanji could argue any more. He started to walk off but then paused and turned back to Sanji. “Did that guy pay for his ticket before he left?”

Sanji felt his stomach drop. Was he supposed to have taken Ace’s payment too? He had just assumed Ace had already paid the waiter before dropping unconscious right there on the table. And Sanji said as much, hoping a misunderstanding like that wasn’t enough to get him fired on the spot.

It wasn’t, but Wanze informed him none too politely that the cost of the meal was going to come out of his next check. 

Fuck this job.

-*-*-*-

Sanji trudged up the second flight of stairs on his way home. The first few days living here, he hadn’t minded the complex’s lack of an elevator so much, thinking of running up and down three flights of stairs once or twice a day as a nice little exercise to have in the mornings and evenings, as he couldn’t afford a gym membership. 

At the moment though, he was thinking about passing out on the landing right then and there, far too exhausted to be any type of optimistic about his situation. The price of two meals would be taken out of his pay. That Ace guy had eaten enough for _two people_ , cleaned his plate, and hadn’t paid for a single goddamn cent of it.

Sanji didn’t give a _fuck_ how attractive he was, if he ever crossed paths with that guy again, his pretty face was getting messed up -- on sight. 

Once he finally reached his door, it took a few tries before his key slid into the lock and he was finally home. At least he had this place. It was the one place he could take refuge in and decompress, recharge for the next day that was sure to be just as full of bullshit as this one was.

As Sanji peeled off his disgusting work clothes, he heard a knock at the door and paused. The only person who knew he lived here had been that Luffy guy, and he hadn’t seen him since their first meeting. At least, Luffy _should_ be the only person who knew he lived here. 

Slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a clean shirt, Sanji quietly approached the door which, regrettably, didn’t have a peephole. Making sure the door chain was locked in place, Sanji slowly unlocked the doorknob and opened the door just a crack.

“Hey, neighbor! Sorry I haven’t been able to come by and introduce myself sooner--”

Sanji slammed the door, unlocked the chain, and threw it wide open this time.

“Ace?!”

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! :)


End file.
